


Hello Old Friends

by BasicallyAnIdiot



Series: HCS Week 2021 [2]
Category: Pocket Monsters: Omega Ruby & Alpha Sapphire | Pokemon Omega Ruby & Alpha Sapphire Versions, Pocket Monsters: Ruby & Sapphire & Emerald | Pokemon Ruby Sapphire Emerald Versions
Genre: Birthday Party, Dragon!Brendan, Dragon!May, F/M, King!Wallace, Knight!Steven, Mayflower the Dragon, Princess!Lisia, The ongoing adventures of the Champion and the Dragon, fantasy!au, same age!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:41:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29165871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BasicallyAnIdiot/pseuds/BasicallyAnIdiot
Summary: The invitation was one Steven could not refuse. With it came several challenges.One of the biggest, of course, was convincing a dragon to wear a dress.(Sequel to 'Dear Fellow Traveler')
Relationships: Haruka | May/Tsuwabuki Daigo | Steven Stone
Series: HCS Week 2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137617
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20
Collections: HCS 2021





	Hello Old Friends

**Author's Note:**

> For Shikisai-san, the co-organizer of this week. Who was very excited to see the return of Mayflower the Dragon. 
> 
> Another rushed fic- but I hope you all enjoy regardless!
> 
> Supposed to be related to Fly, but I took a wide interpretation. Very wide.

**Hello Old Friends**

Trying to explain dresses to Mayflower had been a challenge.

Teaching her manners had been easy- the dragon listened attentively and followed his instructions. She moved with more grace than any noble lady, her natural balance and spatial awareness more than up to the challenge of the most complex manners and rules.

Spending a few days teaching her how to dance had been memorable. Steven always found his hands burning where they touched her body. He tried to pretend it meant nothing. She was warm under his palms, dragons ran hotter than humans it seemed, but not burning. His insistence on teaching her more and more complex dances was for her benefit. Not that many of them would never be used for anything short of a wedding or diplomatic event.

She had wanted to learn the intricacies of human life. He had been inclined to show her. Dancing was one of the few ways to have a private conversation during a public event. Dance partners were expected to chat and over the din of a ballroom it was hard to be overheard. Then he had to explain why it was a problem if a conversation was overheard. He survived the ordeal with his dignity mostly intact.

Steven had been well-rewarded for his efforts. For each lesson given, Mayflower returned with one of her own. He knew more about weather formations and plant life than ever before. His survival teacher at the Academy would weep tears of joy at the little tidbits she dropped as they traveled.

He just hadn’t thought that his etiquette lessons would ever be needed beyond not tripping over words as Mayflower greeted innkeepers and town mayors.

Then a letter, flouriously written in gold on crisp, white paper. The seal made it an invitation by oath and blood he was not allowed to refuse. A birthday party among the royal family. Traveling to Evergrande would slow them down, cut into their search for Mayflower’s brother, but a necessity. Steven would no more refuse his liege than he would cut off his own hand. Once Mayflower realized there was a princess involved the dragon had refused to be refused on going, suggesting she hadn’t paid as much attention to the etiquette lessons as he thought.

Which meant dresses.

Three days of verbal spatting had taken place before a very nice and deeply amused seamstress took pity on him and his ‘country relation’. The woman, bless her, instead showed the dragon a variety of fabrics in all sorts of colours and weaves. More importantly, the seamstress showed the dragon how the material _moved_. Painted a picture of a hundred dresses, all colours known to the people, swirling out from beautiful dancers as music built.

Once the first mock-up had been done, and Mayflower had spun around on the stool watching the pinned cotton form billow out from her legs, the dragon stopped her protesting. He had left the selection of material and colour to the seamstress with only the condition it amplified Mayflower’s natural beauty. ‘Country-relation’ or no, if Mayflower was going to be associated with the House of Stone there were certain standards that had to be met.

When he actually saw Mayflower in the finished dress on the night of the party, a shade of shimmering cornflower blue that highlighted the impossible brightness of her eyes, Steven had to revise his opinion of the seamstress. The woman, he decided as Mayflower stepped up beside him and slipped a gloved hand through his arm, would forever have a patron from the Rustboro and Mossdeep estates.

The gold and diamond necklace he had loaned the dragon was set against a delicate collarbone, glittering in the candlelight. A maid, one he had known from childhood and wise in matters of discretion, had done up her hair in a simple style,a bun of some kind, but littered the chestnut brown locks with pins topped with tiny diamonds. The effect was dazzling.

‘Mayflower’, although a lovely name and easier to say than the dragon’s full name, was not suitable for a court introduction. The Lady May of Petalburg, a smaller estate, little more than a cottage in a forest older than the kingdom, that bordered the Rustboro lands was suitable enough. Barely. As long as no one went looking too deeply. Most would know him and his titles extensively, and all the members of court they had to fool were high enough not to be concerned with such a small track of land and which family lived there.

Wallace would know. Steven would have to deal with that when it, undoubtedly, came up. Which it would, because Wallace had known him since they were both toddlers and knew all about Steven’s family the same way Steven knew about his. Particularly the fact that Steven had no family- extended or otherwise; there weren’t any country relations remotely near May’s apparent youth.

They survived the introductions, Mayflower played her part perfectly even as her magic whispered into the back of his mind all her favourite dresses she had seen the other ladies wearing. She was fond of colour. He wasn’t quite as good at responding in the same manner yet, but his amusement came across clear enough.

The first hour passed uneventfully. The whispers that accompanied their arrival subsided as the evening pressed on. A court bard, one of Wallace’s favourites, was supposed to play tonight. He was supposedly an audacious man, but all the noble ladies that said it had done so with a wry smile behind delicate fans.

When the royal party arrived, Steven began the mental countdown until he and Mayflower could safely exit without offending anyone.

He hadn’t expected Princess Lisia, Wallace’s favoured cousin, to approach them in a dress of blinding white and gold. Her hair was the most elaborate of all, gold tiara set into soft blue locks. Her smile was genuine. “Lord Steven! You made it! I was concerned you would be too far away.”

Steven bowed over her hand as was proper, “Your Highness. I wouldn’t dare miss it.” He gestured to Mayflower, who promptly executed a graceful curtsy. “Princess Lisia, I present the Lady May of Petalburg. She is a relation of mine on my mother’s side.”

“Well met, Lady May.” Lisia nodded an answering greeting, eyes glittering with good humour and held her hand out for Mayflower to accept. “I had no idea that Steven had such beautiful women in his family. Come, you must tell me who made your dress.”

The social rules were clear. Mayflower sent a single thought, bright and happy, ‘ _I’m meeting a princess!’_ before she accompanied Lisia away. Steven felt a sudden unease. Something about this felt odd- at such an event, Lisia would be accompanied by her guardian. In this case her cousin-

A calloused hand landed on his shoulder, rings shimmering with gemstones, and a familiar voice spoke quietly into his ear, “A ‘country relation’, really, Steven? Was that the best lie you could come up with?”

Steven coughed, fighting to keep a straight face. “Well, the invitation was rather insistent on the plus one, Your Majesty.”

He turned as Wallace laughed. The embrace wasn’t entirely proper between a King and a dutiful Lord, but between friends almost tame. Wallace gestured to the two women across the room, Mayflower was almost smiling as brightly as Lisia, “Who is that, really? It’s not like you to have a lady friend, let alone one you’d bring to court.”

“Was it Lisia’s idea to separate us or yours', Wallace?” Steven leaned back and dropped his voice, “It’s not a story for public ears.”

Wallace’s smile dropped for a moment. “Is it dire?”

The Champion considered the question with all due weight. “It is urgent. Urgent enough we shall be returning to the road by the morn.”

“Come then. Let me enjoy the company of my Champion this evening.”

The private study off of the ballroom had been warded from prying eyes and ears. Wallace poured two goblets of wine from an ornate carafe as they settled in the two armchairs.

Steven began at the beginning, back in the days of hunting a sheep thief and instead finding a dragon. Then the more pressing concern of Mt. Chimney and its imminent eruption. Then the hunt for yet another dragon that could potentially tame the volcano’s rage.

Wallace seemed to age with each word spoken. He wasn’t supposed to be king, but fate had spoken on the matter and he became one anyway. The king kept his silence for a long moment, “And here I was hoping to call you back to court.”

“Pardon?”

His friend grimaced, and downed the rest of his goblet. “There’s a group of traitors determined to overthrow me. I was hoping having you near would remind them of the hopelessness of their cause. They are calling themselves the Magma Faction.”

“My loyalty is to you, my King. I will go where you require me.”

“Where I need you-”

 _‘Steven!’_ Mayflower’s mental shout was more a roar. Just a beat faster than the screams muffled by stone walls. He was on his feet and halfway to the door when an actual roar cut through the chaos, rattling the glass in the window frames and silencing the screams.

A decidedly male voice cut into his thoughts, familiar in a way that Steven couldn’t place. _‘How dare you interrupt me in the chorus!’_

Wallace seemed to recognize it immediately. “Is that-”

Steven grabbed a sword from the suit of armour, hefting it with ease. He called to his king, “Stay back!” and pulled open the door, ready to attack whoever was on the other side.

Ruby red scales blocked his attention. Brilliant crimson glowing softly like embers as the beast sat on it haunches, great wings outstretched over the court pressed against the walls. Dragon. As beautiful as Mayflower, with sharp spiked horns far more menacing in the candlelight.

Before it, cowering, three attendants in servant clothing were held there by an enraged Mayflower. Her dress had been ripped, hair pulled from its bun, and a bent sword in her grasp Steven had the sinking suspicion had been drawn on her. Behind her, with a look of utter awe, Lisia had a hand to her mouth and stood tall as the rest of the court quivered.

Mayflower pushed one man with her hand- apparently hard enough to send the man into the floor. She looked up at the dragon and launched into a series of whistles and chirps- too fast for Steven to follow.

The crimson dragon slowly lowered its front legs to the ground, claws as long as daggers gingerly, carefully, not damaging the tiled floor. It whistled back when Mayflower finished, drawing its wings in and settling down on the floor, wings and tail tucked around it like a cat.

With a nod, Mayflower lifted the apparent ringleader up a bit. “You interrupted his song. Apologize.”

Foolishly the man hesitated. Mayflower shook him like one would shake a misbehaving dog. The apology was more stutter than anything else, but apparently sufficient. The guards, gathering their courage, approached. Mayflower noticed and threw the man at them. One-handed. Training saved the guards from an embarrassing moment. The rest were gathered quickly under Mayflower’s stern gaze.

Steven saw his cue, stepping out with Wallace following a step behind and well with range of his protection. “Mayflower.” He glanced at the dragon watching them in turn. “I hope you will introduce us.”

She curtsied to Wallace. “Of course. Your Majesty, Steven. I present my brother, born of molten rock and sunlit earth, of the creations of lands and the arrival of spring.” She paused, tilting her head with a playful smile. “His friends call him, Brendan.”

There was a gasp across the room as Lisia approached, heels clicking against the ceramic. “Master Brendan?”

The crimson dragon ducked it’s head to the same level as the Princess, blue eyes nearly the same as Mayflower’s regarded her, _‘Sorry about your party, Your Highness. I promise your song is a good one.’_

Lisia, to her credit, didn’t hesitate with her smile. “I had no doubt it would be, Master Brendan. Hopefully, you’ll find another opportunity to sing it for me.”

Wallace coughed and stepped forward, the entire court remembering their manners to bow and curtsy. “Well then. My court bard is a dragon.” He glanced at the dragon, who somehow appeared sheepish. “I trust, Master Brendan, you have no other pressing secrets to bring to our attention.”

_‘None, Your Majesty.’_

“Very well. Princess Lisia, Lord Stone, Lady May,” He paused, eyeing the dragon, “Master Brendan, if you could find it possible to become two-legged again. Please accompany me to my private study. Immediately.” Holding out a hand, Lisia accepted the escort of her guardian and the duo led the small procession out of the room.

A ripple of scales and bones later, and a lanky young man stood sheepishly in the bright colours of a bard. He scratched the back of his head, brown like Mayflower’s and far more messy.

Mayflower fell into step with Steven. Her voice was quiet in a way he had never heard before. “I’m sorry about the dress. It’s just Brendan was singing and no one else saw those three closing in on Lisia and I had to do something-”

He stopped mid-stride, turning to the dragon at his side. Her hand covered the gap where a sleeve had been pulled from its seam at the shoulder. She was looking at the floor. Steven tilted her chin up, taking in the wide blinking eyes and a heart-shape face with stray locks pulled from her bun hanging in waves by her ear. Beautiful. He didn’t know how any human would ever be able to compare. “May. You are far more important than any dress. And, for you, for how you _saved_ the life of someone very dear tonight, I would buy out all the shops of Evergrande.”

He dropped his hand and held out an arm. May, Mayflower, swallowed and accepted it with grace.

(Behind them, not quite quiet enough, Brendan muttered, “Oh the songs I’m going to sing about those two.”)

**Author's Note:**

> Come say 'hi' on[ Tumblr!](https://basicallyanidiot.tumblr.com/)


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